The Lightn- Precious is Gone!
by thedarksun-writes
Summary: Pixie wasn't someone Percy would call very likeable. She hated helping others, had a habit of setting people she didn't like items on fire, and had some rather skewed morals - in his good opinion, she was just very antihero. Most would call him delusional and say she was the villain in their relationship, but despite that he was glad she decided to come along this delightful quest.
1. Prologue: When Heroes Meet

**Published: 06.05.15 *Complete chapter***

 **Last Edited: Date of publish**

 **Word count: 4,737**

 **So~**

 **Hi guys! I know it's been long and I haven't exactly been- Oh god! Please don't shot me! I swear it wasn't on purpose! I just, you know... erh, I didn't exactly like it?**

 **Let me clarify (If you're new to this you can just skip the whole thing, as this doesn't concern you), 'The Underworld Princess' was a story I had started thinking about way back in, what? Summer 2012? Or something, and as you can see, it's been a long time. I had just started out writing at that time, and perhaps wasn't the best (let's be honest, I _sucked_ ) so when I read through it now? I honestly can't believe how many of you guys actually _liked_ it, and it makes me so happy to know that you did, but it also means I feel like I owe you something better. Better written, better thought out, better character development, just... _better_. This is why I decided to have a 'do over' so to say, and I really do hope you'll stick with me through it.**

 **But thank you for all the lovely comments and reviews, and for now, enjoy the first chapter.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

 **"When Heroes meet."**

* * *

Percy Jackson.

She didn't know what to think of the new kid. He looked like your average troublemaker, but... those bright sea-green eyes of his told another story. Maybe he was different from the rest of those morons? She scoffed quietly. Who cared anyway? Better of on her own, she was, and he would soon see that as well.

Yancy Academy was apparently his sixth school in six years - how he ever managed to get thrown out (she assumed he got thrown out) of every single one of them was a mystery, but she did have _some_ ideas - and wasn't _that_ a surprise? No, not here at least, because Yancy was the place troubled kids like this Jackson and herself, among others, were placed when no one else wanted them. Or when rich parents didn't know what to do and just dumped their kids here. Either way, everyone who ended up here was abandoned in some way or other.

This wasn't a cause for tears however, for when no one wanted them, they made their own families and groups. Some where obviously better crowds than others, but the idea of community was there no matter what - people just had different interpretations of the word.

"Mr. Jackson, there's a free seat other there." Mr. Smith waved his hand none-commendable in her direction.

Of course there was a free seat next to her, she snidely thought, she had made sure of that. The tables where all meant for two people, but she liked her personal space, thank you very much, which meant no one was allowed to sit next to her. She had gone through too much trouble to make it so, she wouldn't allow Jackson to ruin that now.

He would soon realised just _how_ precious her personal space was to her.

"Hi, I'm Percy." She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, never really turning her head away from the window. Jet-black hair, tan, he looked a bit like a skater if you asked her.

She huffed, gaze wandering back to the outside. "Good for you."

She could almost hear him frowning, chair scratching against the floor as he pulled it out and sat down.

"But you might want to find a new seat."

"Why?" he sounded confused. "There ain't any other."

"Too bad. I don't like people in my personal space."

"How big is your bubble?"

She quirked a smirk. "Oh about to where you're sitting and then some."

"I'm not moving." He stated.

Her smirk vanished and she didn't bother to give a retort. There was no need too, because in the end, he would turn out to be like everyone else. It would start of slowly - he would shift away from her; flinch if he accidentally touched her; say anything to please her -, but then it would escalate and he wouldn't even want to look at her in fear of summoning her wrath.

He would be just like everyone else, she knew it.

* * *

 **.01**

* * *

A month had gone by now.

And Jackson was still sitting besides her.

"Hey."

"Oy."

"Hey, grumpy."

" _What_." Seriously? Couldn't he just leave her alone?

Jackson slid a piece of paper over to her, sending her an almost kicked puppy dog look as he looked up through dark lashes. "I erh, I don't get this..."

She took a glance at the paper. Basic algebra, easy, solve for x. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

He shifted in his seat, as if it actually pained him to do this. "Help me?"

She gave him one look. "No."

"What?" He didn't even sound that surprised. "Please?"

"No."

"Come on!" A harsh glare from Mrs. Dodds had him quickly quieting down.

Mrs. Dodds was this little fifty-year-old math teacher from Georgia, who always wore a black leather jacket and looked mean enough to ride a Harley into your locker. Sometimes she even looked pissed enough to run _you_ over instead, but then again, she usually looked that way when her gaze turned to Jackson.

Mrs. Dodds hadn't always been there, she had come in when the last math teacher had had a nervous break down.

She twirled the pencil in her hand, smirking inwardly. That may or not have been her fault actually.

"No. Now leave me alone."

"I'll- I'll give you some candy - for free?"

Was he really trying to _bribe_ her?

A smirk crossed her face. She'd see where this would go.

"Oh?"

Jackson nodded viciously. "Yeah!" He glanced around, no doubt looking to see if Mrs. Dodds heard him, before lowering his voice again. "Yeah, I mean, yes- _yes_ , I'll give you erh, what'd you want?"

She leaned her elbows on the table, placing her head in her palms. "Why do you want my help so bad?"

He grimaced, a certain emotion that she was starting to really get to know crossed his face. "Don't wanna give Mrs. Dodds a reason to give me detention again."

She hummed, before giving her final verdict. "Still not helping you."

* * *

 **.02**

* * *

He wanted to know her name.

"None of your business."

"But I need to know what to call you, I can't just keep on calling you 'hey you', or 'grumpy'."

"Seems to be going well enough."

Jackson huffed out through his nose, features twisted in a frown and lips tugging down. "What's your problem anyway? I'm trying to be nice, but you just keep on shooting me down!"

She snarled, words coming out through her teeth. She was thoroughly done with the extra baggage and just so _tired_ of it _._ "Take a fucking hint."

He glared at her, but she didn't even blink. "Is it really that great to be alone?" Before she had a chance to answer that ' _yes_ , it was wonderful, now _leave_ ', he continued, face flushed with anger, "I've seen you. You always act like you don't care, that you don't want friends, but I've _seen_ you."

For the first time, she felt a rush of shame fill her and she turned her head away from those knowing sea-green eyes. Oh she knew what he was talking about alright, and she didn't like it _one bit_.

She didn't answer, prompting Jackson to fill the silence.

"You say how you want your 'personal space' but you wince every time someone flinches away from you. And I've seen the way you look at the other groups, so don't even think of denying it."

Still, she didn't say anything.

"What's holding you back? What are you so afraid-?"

"I'm _not_ afraid." She snapped.

"Well there's clearly _something_."

She closed her mouth. She had nothing to say to that.

"... Fuck off."

"No."

She seethed, turing to fully face Jackson and first now noticing their difference in height as she had to crane her head up to actually look him in the eyes. "What do you _want?!_ Is it protection? Did you piss off some of the older kids and now you're trying to get me to take care of them for you?!" She shoved him back. "Or are you just trying to get into the higher levels of the school's hierarchy? Don't you fucking _get it?_ People avoid me for a _reason_ , and I want _nothing to do_ with you god damned bastards."

She was huffing and puffing from her rant, chest moving up and down, as she unclenched her fists, crescent moons imbedded into her skin. Furious, she was _furious_ \- who did he think he was? - and it was only getting worse as the silence dragged on. She had been right, he really _was_ only trying to befriend her because he wanted-

"I just want to know your name."

What? She blinked, bodily rearing back as if hit. What did he say? He just- He wanted to know her name? No, no that couldn't be the _only_ thing, she wouldn't believe it, because... because he was _just like everyone else_.

"Why?"

"Because I want to be your friend."

She felt like a parrot. "W _hy_?"

Jackson frowned, nonplussed, before he shifted his weight and licked his lips. He shrugged. "I just... I don't know, you're... I feel like... we're the same in some way..." he finished lamely.

What was this guy's _deal_?

She swallowed. Should she take the chance?

"Pixie."

" _Pixie_?"

"S'what everyone else calls me."

His eyes darted up to her hair, and then back to her small built. "Fits you."

A sharp and wary grin crossed her lips, teeth slightly bared in an almost feral expression. "I'd guess so."

* * *

 **.03**

* * *

Someone pushed their way past her, bumping roughly into her in their hurry to get to the cafeteria. Pixie dropped the bottle in her hands, watching as the content filled out onto the floor. She growled lowly, sight already set on the offender's back and ready to pounce. She couldn't see much of him though, the people around hiding him from view, but she could see his head and the top of his back. A sneer twisted her lips.

 _No one_ bumped into her without saying sorry.

Her fingers curled around the back of his t-shirt, and _pulled_.

"Gah!"

He didn't fall to the ground, like she would have liked him to, but he was held back. He turned around to face her, confusion on his face, which quickly turned ashen.

Grover Underwood.

He was an easy target, and he was made an even bigger target when the others found out he cried when he got frustrated. He was also rather scrawny, and Pixie figured he must have been hold back a couple of grade before he got here, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. Lastly, he was crippled. From what she'd heard then it was some kind of muscle disease in his legs, though she had seen him on enchilada day in the cafeteria - like today - where he ran like the wind, so she was having a bit of doubt about it.

"I-I-I-I-I-I'm terribly sorry!" He yelled.

She glared at him through sharp eyes. "You made me spill my bottle."

Pixie didn't know it was possible, but Underwood paled even further. "I-I-I'm sorry! But I don't have any money!"

"You think I care?"

"I-"

"If you can't pay for a new one," She growled, "than I guess you'll just have to owe me, won't you?"

Underwood slowly shook his head, eyes wide in fear. It was a common sort of knowledge that you did not want to owe Pixie _anything_ \- be it a favour, drink, or possession -, because she would make sure to take the one thing of most value. This was why most of the classes from 5th to 8th grade each gave her a present when her birthday came. To stay in her good graces.

(She'd sold most of the things.)

Pixie and the older kids had come to the agreement that they would leave each other alone, and that suited her just fine. They were too much trouble trying to control anyway.

She smirked, but it quickly turned into a frown when Underwood suddenly looked at her strangely, as if it was the first time he was seeing her. He took a whiff of the air. "I- I'll buy you a new one!"

Didn't he just say he didn't have any money? Pixie narrowed her eyes. Something was going on.

The halls were almost empty now, all the other students having filled into the cafeteria or outside to eat.

"So now you have money?"

Underwood blushed to his roots, eyes shifting about as he wrong his hands together.

He was lying.

"I just remembered I had some!"

She scoffed. "I don't want it anymore."

"But I have the money!"

"Don't care." She turned around and started walking away, her appetite ruined.

"Wait! Just let me-! Ah! _Wait_!"

Those crouches must've made it difficult to follow her.

"Let me buy you a new one!"

"Piss off."

"But I really want to buy you one!"

She gritted her teeth together. "I don't fucking _care_ anymore."

"Please! Just let me do this!"

Pixie whirled around, fists clenched at her sides and glaring heavily at anything that moved. Underwood should have left her for his beloved enchiladas. "Just leave me _the fuck alone_!"

"Is everything okay here?"

She stiffened, seeing the wheel bound man roll up to them from her left. A slightly puzzled smile was on his face, eyes crinkled.

Mr. Brunner was her Latin teacher. He was this middle-aged man in a motorised wheelchair, with thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled of coffee.

The man was an alright teacher, better than any other she had had but that didn't say much, and he let his students play games in class. He told stories and jokes, some of which were quite cheesy, and he had this special collection of Roman armour and weapons that Pixie loved every much. He was the only teacher whose class didn't put anyone to sleep.

She gave Underwood one last glare, knuckles white.

"Yeah, everything's _fine_."

* * *

 **.04**

* * *

"Miss Fleur?"

She stopped in her tracks, caught by surprise. How long had it been since she was last called that? When she first started school? How did he even _know_?

Tense and ready to strike out at any moments notice, Pixie turned around quickly - as it was already too late to act as if it wasn't her. Suspicion filled her gaze as she stared at the man before her, who was well off if the Italian suit was anything to go by.

Though it could also be the sleek black limo behind him that gave it away.

She hadn't seen the man before - not at school nor any of her foster homes -, which raised the question of _how_ he knew her. The school wouldn't give out information like this, as they knew if anyone came looking for one of their students it usually meant they were in trouble. The cops were the only ones given that kind of information, no exceptions.

The man was leaning against the parked limo, legs crossed, looking for all she knew relaxed. That was good, it meant she had a head start if she needed to run away, because whilst she could straight up just start running, the man would first have to uncross his legs, righten himself, and _then_ start running.

"I'm afraid you have me at an disadvantage," she shifted ever-so-slightly, "who are you?" She was looking at the man's lapel, which was pinned to his suit, but her dyslexia was making it difficult to read it. To her, it looked like: HAOCRN.

The man apparently noticed her trouble and saved her from suffering any further. "You can call me Charon."

She sent the man – who was apparently named Charon (what had his mother been _smoking_?) – a doubtful look, not completely sure if he was joking or not. "Sure..."

A small silence enveloped the two, both unwilling to be the one to break it. Pixie would have had no trouble with it, if it wasn't for her impatience and the ADHD didn't make it better, but she was able to keep it squashed down for now.

"Your father..." Charon finally began.

Immediately, she twisted on her heels, walking away from the surprised man.

"Hey-! Miss Fleur-! _Wait_!"

"Don't care." Her _father_ could go _screw himself_ for all she cared.

She didn't hear anything from Charon again after that.

* * *

 **.05**

* * *

They were doing a project in Science, but it was nothing even remotely lethal, _or_ dangerous, so Pixie wouldn't have been able to cause permanent damage to the others even if she wanted to.

Nah, she was _kidding_ , _of course_ she wouldn't do anything like that...

Yeah.

"Look, I know you seem to hate me-"

She sent Jackson an deadpan look. That was a bit of an understatement - she _really_ didn't like the way he seemed to so easily look through her.

"-but can't we just work together this one time?"

She narrowed her eyes at the other. "... If I have too."

Jackson almost seemed to visibly deflate as he released a sigh of relief.

"But if we're going to do this, it won't be some boring ass shit like this." She said as she gestured to the paper they'd got from the teacher.

And then he groaned.

Pixie had to force the grin off her face. Poor fool didn't even know what he'd got himself into.

"And what, _exactly_ , are we doing?" He almost sounded as if he regretted not feigning being sick today.

She smirked, carefully sliding off her chair as she sent the teacher a side way glance. "Make sure no one sees me and you'll see."

The look he sent her was one of dread.

Pixie completely slid off the seat, crouching down behind the desk. The teacher, she knew, was sitting heavily in his chair, sleep dragging his eyelids down, but that meant nothing if some of the others saw her and spoke up or if he suddenly woke like she knew he would at some point.

Especially if he knew something was _wrong_. He was one of those people who just _knew_ if something was amiss, it was the reason she had been caught so many times, but she refused to let this one fail - failure was not an option.

(She would get back at him for that one detention - it had ruined her plans of visiting the little quaint antique shop around the corner.)

She darted down the rows of tables, moving further towards the teacher's table, where an computer stood. These things were like child's play to her, always had been, and she used it to the fullest. Pixie suddenly paused, quickly looked around, and then continued until she was right in front of the table.

She snuck a look at the teacher and then one up at the old computer - one with a CRT monitor. Pixie picked at the cables, uncoupling some and re-coupling them again in new places. She worked quickly and quietly, finishing in record time before she hurried down to her table.

When she came back to Jackson he was giving the computer curious, but slightly worried, looks. "What did you do?"

She smirked. "Relax, it won't cause any explosions. At worse, it'll just make the computer short circuit and cause the rest of the school's electricity to cut off."

His eyes settled on her. "How can you know that?"

"I'm good with things like this."

As if that was a secret cue, the monitor started to flash, smoke rising from the computer itself. It smelled like rotten eggs, if she was being honest, sour and unappetising. Thick tendrils slithered out and across the floor like serpents.

Someone screamed, putting a one sided smile on Pixie's face. The teacher jumped up, immediately noticing the smoke.

"Out! Out! Everyone get out!"

Students filed out the door, Jackson matching her gait. They stood in the back of the group, the others at least two arms length away.

"You know... that was surprisingly tame for what I'd thought you'd do."

She sent him a look from the corner of her eye. "All of his things where on that computer - countless of papers he'll now have to re-grade, reorganise, he'll have to _find_ them first of course, if he's not fired first."

"Why would they fire him?"

"Because there was some pretty important documents on that computer."

Jackson didn't retort, and when she looked at him he was frowning.

"That's not very nice." He finally said.

She crossed her arms. "Never said I was."

He shook his head at her, but let the subject go with a sigh. "So what now, Pixel?"

She blinked, swivelling around on her heels to face him. "What?"

"What'd you want to do now? We've pretty much got the rest of the class free."

"Not that," she snapped, " _pixel_."

He gave her a strange look. "Pixel, like, a computer thing, you know."

"I know what a pixel is, you moron. I meant 'why'd you call me that?'"

"Well it kinda fits you. Pixie, Pixel, kinda the same, no? And you said it yourself, you're good with computers, so..." He shrugged.

"Don't call me that."

A grin stretched across his face, mischief filling his bright eyes. "Nah, don't think I will... _Pixel_."

* * *

 **.06**

* * *

It was late at night, and Pixie couldn't sleep. She was still in her dorm room, but it wouldn't stay like that for long she knew. Sneaking out was a common occurrence for the small girl, and it wasn't exactly difficult.

Most of the teachers had long since given up trying to keep the students in bed after curfew.

She threw the covers off, toes curling as she set them on the chilly floor. It was a wonder how the floors always managed to stay so cold, even in the middle of high summer, though that turned out to be more of a blessing than a curse, as opposed to when it was winter. They were in the middle of Spring, as of now, so the coldness still bothered most. She was one of them.

Pixie _hated_ the cold.

In her haste to get warm, she pulled on a big sweater that went down to mid-thigh on her, slipped on thick, fluffy, socks and a pair of converse. She still had her pyjama bottoms on.

Getting outside wasn't too difficult, no teacher in their right mind would be walking around at this time of night, and Pixie released a sigh of content as her gaze fell on the lush pine trees dotting the surrounds of the school. It had been raining, she could tell. Droplets of water still clung to the blades of grass and dampened the bark of the trees.

"Pixel?"

Pixie twirled around, shoulders tense and eyes wide.

Jackson stood behind her, arms cradling a black plastic bag. He was wearing dark colours, so it was a bit difficult to see all the dirt that clung to them, and his sneakers were muddied - as if he'd been running through the small, but lengthy, patch of earth behind the school. She knew there was an opening in the wall that surrounded the school there, and if she was reading this right, then Jackson had obviously been having a late night trip to the outside world.

She meet his eyes. They looked like they were reflecting the moonlight, glowing, and she knew for a fact that her own would almost seem black - sucking all light away.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" She finally said.

"Ain't you?" He shot back.

Her lips quirked. "Touché."

Jackson shifted, the bag heaving in his arms, and frowned. "Ain't you going to go?"

She gave it some thought. "No."

"Well I'm not-"

"What's in the bag?"

He stiffened briefly, before his shoulders relaxed and he gave her a lopsided smile. "Not gonna bust me, are you?"

"I would only be giving myself away."

He grinned, gesturing for her to come closer. "True. But let's go somewhere else, we could easily get caught here."

And so they climbed one of the bigger pine trees, sitting on one of the highest branches that could hold both of their weights combined. The bark was still damp and slightly slippery.

Jackson set the plastic bag in his lap, untying the knot he had made to keep whatever was in there from spilling out with a bit of difficulty. "And- There! Got it!"

Pixie rolled her eyes, and reminded him they had to stay _quiet_.

He grinned. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, okay? But here, have a look." He practically shoved the whole bag into her face.

Pixie blinked. The contents of the bag, it was- "Candy?"

Jackson nodded. "I'm selling it to the other kids."

Again, Pixie blinked. That was actually kind of... smart.

She wouldn't ever tell him that however.

"Okay."

He raised an eyebrow. "'Okay'? That's all you have to say? ' _Okay_ '?"

"Pretty much."

Jackson sighed heavily, seemingly disappointed. "And here I thought I'd finally get a reaction from you."

She scoffed. "Never going to happen."

Apparently he took that as a challenge.

Jackson gave her a once over, smirk playing on his lips as he blinked at her innocently. "You're looking rather pale, I think you might be suffering from a lack of vitamin me."

Pixie reared back, almost as if she had been slapped. "Excuse me?"

He scooted closer to her, shoulders rubbing together with hers. "I lost my teddy bear, can I sleep with you?"

"What are you-?"

He stood up in a fluid move, bending at the waist and looking through dark lashes, eyes flashing impishly. He took her hand in his and held it in front of him as if he was going to kiss it.

"Kiss me if I'm wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?"

She withdrew her hand quickly, crossing her arms, and huffed at him. "Are you really using pick-up lines on me?"

He grinned, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

She might have smiled a little bit at that one, but she turned away, hitting his leg as she did. "Shut up."

She hit his leg harder than intended though, and Jackson slipped.

Pixie's heart jumped up into her throat, her eyes widening. She tried to reach him, hand darting out to grab onto something - anything -, but he slipped through her fingers like smoke.

"JACKSON!"

She watched, frozen, as he hit some of the branches, snapping them. His hands grabbed at anything they could, but nothing they reached was strong enough to hold him, and one smack across his head from one particular branch and he was limb. Jackson hit the ground with a dull thud that seemed to echo within her head.

Pixie was down and by his side faster than she registered.

His brow was bleeding - a cut across his left eyebrow -, she could see, and his tan was getting paler but he was _breathing_. That was what counted. She began to wipe the blood away using her sweater's sleeve, not able to stand how it made Jackson seem even paler than he already was.

She hadn't noticed she was shaking until a hand gripped her wrist.

"You okay?"

She almost hit him again. "Am I-? Am _I_ _okay_? You just fell out of a fucking _tree_ and you're asking me if _I'm_ _okay_!?"

Jackson's lips quirked, but it was nothing like his usual goofy smiles. "I finally got a reaction from you."

She took a deep breath, blowing out air through her nose. " _Moron_."

He grinned, but it turned into something more of a grimace. "Hey, you're even insulting me again, you're more than just fine."

" _Peachy_." She pressed a sleeve covered hand to the still bleeding wound. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

He tried to move, but the action caused him to wince. "My- My back hurts, my shoulder too, but other than that - and my head -, I'm fine."

"You haven't broken anything?"

"Don't think so."

A weight lifted off her shoulders. "Good."

Jackson blinked up at her, taking in her expression before a glint of mischief filled his eyes. "Don't tell me you-"

"Hey! You two! What are you doing out after curfew?!"

Footsteps were running towards them, and from what Pixie could hear it sounded like there was more than two. She could see a couple of flashlights waving through the air.

She smiled lightly down at the boy in her lap. "You were right. We would get busted if we stayed out here."

He tried to turn his head to look at the oncoming teachers, but Pixie kept him still. He huffed up at her, sending her a mock glare.

"Well if we're getting busted then you might as well take some before the teachers confiscate it." He smirked. "Free of charge, of course."

Pixie smothered the smile that threatened to break out, before he got a chance to see it.

Jackson wasn't so bad. She would allow him to be near her - for now -, if only to somehow repay him...

* * *

 **Yay! first chappie is up! Wheeeeeeeeee~!**  
 ***Cough cough* Right, I just needed to get that out of my system, soooo~ Whacha think? It's a bit drabble-ish, I know, but it won't be like that for every chapter.**  
 **Leave a review and tell me what you think of the new version, or if you're new to this story altogether leave one anyway!**


	2. Ch I: Hell hath Fury like a woman

**Published: 06.18.15**

 **Last Edited: Date of publish**

 **Word count: 5,986**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews, favourites and alerts, and for the question that Guest (GreedTheSelfless) asked; no, Pixie is not her real name, and it will be explained in the later chapters.**

 **And no, the chapter title isn't a typo.**

 **I hope you enjoy the next chapter of Pixie and the Lightn- Precious is Gone!**

* * *

 **Chapter I**

 **"Hell hath Fury like a woman."**

* * *

Staying inside a stuffy school bus with a bunch of loud and restless mental-case kids was not Pixie's idea of _fun_. In fact, she'd much rather put needles in somebody else's eyes - or she could just burn the whole sunflower coloured bus down, whatever came first.

The zippo was cool to the touch when she wrapped her fingers around it, feeling every engraving as she caressed it almost lovingly. She ran a nail down one of the engravings, guided by the soft swirls and bends.

It wouldn't take much effort on her part to watch it all burn down.

She flickered the top off.

All it would take was just a simply _spark_.

Pixie smiled, all teeth and no warmth, eyes wide in amazement.

A hand grabbed her wrist, hindering the lighter's descend towards the seat in front of her.

"Pixel, you shouldn't do that."

Jackson.

"I'm bored." She said, though she really didn't need to explain herself. "This bus is too stuffy." She then added as an afterthought, "And don't call me Pixel."

"I doubt putting it on fire will make it less so."

She pursed her lips. Perhaps, she was after all inside it herself... then she would just have to wait until after she got out.

Someone screamed. "Sh- She- She- _She's got a **lighter**!_ "

As one, the other students reared back and away from her, shooting down the aisle to get away from her. She sent them all a feral grin, absolutely no mirth in her eyes, but closed the zippo with a snap of her wrist.

"Relax, I'm not burning anything." _Yet,_ she thought to herself.

"You should take your own advice." Jackson replied quietly, so that only the two of them could hear it. He guided her hand back into her lap, giving it a light squeeze. "We'll be out soon."

Raising his voice, he called to Underwood who was sitting in the seats in front of them. "Hey, Groves, d'you think there's anything cool at the museum?"

Underwood turned in his seat, facing Jackson.

It was odd, Pixie thought, the friendship between the two of them. It just happened one day to the other, and suddenly they were the best of friends. Something fierce bubbled in the pit of her stomach when she had first seen them, but she couldn't really figure out what it was. It faded as the days passed by however, and she tolerated Underwood's presence most of the time, but he would always be _Jackson's_ friend.

"W-well," Underwood licked his lips, "what's not to like about ancient Greek and Roman artefacts?"

It was May, and apparently that meant the whole class had to go an a field trip. They would be going to the Metropolitan Museum of Arts, and the only reason Pixie was looking forward to this was because they were allowed outside of the school's property.

Jackson leaned back in his seat comfortably, a lopsided grin playing on his lips. "Sounds more like torture, but I have hope."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Mr. Brunner's the one leading this trip-"

 _Smack!_

A wad of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich landed smack dap in the middle of Underwood's face, some of it even sticking to his curly brown hair.

Jackson froze, but Pixie knew he wouldn't do anything, unless provoked enough. He had sworn to be good on this trip, so he _had_ to put up with Nancy Bobofit, a freckly, red-haired kleptomaniac girl.

And Bobofit knew he _couldn't_ do anything, because he was already on probation (Pixie as well) from when the teachers had found them outside after curfew. The headmaster had threatened them both with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

Pixie couldn't care any less, she'd just hack into the school's network and play some good ol' first-person shooter, but she knew Jackson wanted to be good because of his mother. Must've been nice having-

She abruptly squashed that thought before it could grow.

Another wad of sandwich made its way into Underwood's hair.

Jackson clenched his fists, mumbling lowly, "I'm gonna kill her."

Underwood tried to calm him down, wiping away the evidence of the offence, as if that would somehow make Jackson forget it had ever happened. "It's okay. I like peanut butter." He briefly disappeared behind the backrest as another piece of Bobofit's lunch flew over his head.

"That's it." Jackson started to get up, but a grip on his arm stopped him.

"Pixel?"

She hid a grimace. Really, what had she fallen to?

"I'll take care of it." She looked him straight in the eyes, noting that the cut across his eyebrow had healed rather nicely. It was still visible, a thin pinkish line about five centimetres ***** long running from the edge of his left eye and diagonally through the middle of his eyebrow.

Jackson knew not to push it when she became like this - _knew_ how she felt about the accident.

He relented with a sigh. "Just don't burn anything."

Pixie turned in her seat, though not before giving a small nod of confirmation, eyes locking onto her target. "Bobofit."

The mentioned girl stiffened, swallowing the spit in her mouth. "Y-yes, Pixie?"

She tilted her head, taking all the time in the world to answer. Pixie had no reason to hurry, letting the other girl stew and work herself into a panic was a lot more fun.

"You went home for Christmas, didn't you." It wasn't a question, but she expected Bobofit to answer anyway.

All eyes were on them now, the other students anxiously anticipating the slaughter to come, but none of them made to help the girl. Pixie almost sneered. Sheep, the whole lot of them were _sheep_.

Bobofit nodded nervously, eyes wide in fear. "Y-yes."

Pixie smiled, eyes empty of emotion. "And did you have a good time?"

The other licked her lips before answering, "I... I did, yes."

"And did you get any good presents?"

Bobofit's eyes widened in realisation, mouth opening in shock as her face drained of all colour.

Pixie raised an eyebrow, but when the girl didn't say anything, she gestured for her to continue. "Well?"

"I..." she swallowed, looking as if she was pledging guilty at her own hearing, "Yes."

A malevolent smile played on Pixie's lips, and she purred, "I guess you'd very much like to keep them, no?"

Bobofit gave a small nod, shrinking in on herself.

"Then I suggest you eat your lunch instead of throwing it."

When the bus finally stopped the kids raced each other to the exit, Bobofit in the lead.

Pixie stepped out of the stuffy bus, the wind immediately whipping short, sooty black, locks around her ears. The breeze felt fantastic on the back of her nap, almost acting as a soothing balm over the Itch, which was an odd thing in and off itself. It was as little she had taken to calling it that, because it _was_ just _that_. An itch that wouldn't go away. There wasn't much she could compare it with, but it was almost like the feeling when you couldn't scratch the oncoming itch under the plaster cast.

It drove her _crazy_.

Jackson stepped beside her. "So this is it, huh?"

The Metropolitan Museum of Arts still sounded a bit too pompous in her ears, and the building matched that perfectly. Big, white columns, steps leading up to the entrance, and gold letters announcing its name proudly.

Pixie withheld a sigh, and almost forebodingly the Itch started up again.

* * *

 **.01**

 *** Roughly about two inches, if you were wondering.**

* * *

Mr. Brunner rode up in front in his wheelchair as he guided the group of students through the museum. Pixie kept to the back, along with Jackson and Underwood, something the others in their class where only all too happy to maintain. Last time she had been walking in the front she'd accidentally (well, accidentally, and accidentally, she had kind of done it on purpose) pushed a big red button that apparently dropped those behind her into a deep hole in the ground. They had been looking at caves at the time.

They moved through the big echoey galleries, the ceiling high and spacious. Pixie vaguely wondered if she could somehow make howling noises and blame it on the wind, or maybe that stuffed wolf beside her. The Itch was shoved to the back of her mind as the little part of her ADHD infested brain kept coming up with different ideas she couldn't do.

She wondered if her calls would run along the inner walls, or maybe they would perhaps bounce?

Maybe she could make it sound like monsters were hiding in the shadows.

The floors were all shinning and glass-like in appearance, perfect for sliding across on a buttered-up tray. The glass cases full of old black-and-orange pottery were placed in a way that would be good for target practising. Perhaps she should bring a BB gun next time they went on a field trip?

"I can't believe this stuff has survived for two, three thousand years." Jackson said.

Pixie titled her head to the side, looking thoughtfully at the pottery. _She_ couldn't believe anyone would want to exhibit this stuff. It was goddamned _ugly_.

The way Jackson smiled at her told her he knew what she was thinking. He started whistling innocently, and she knew it was just to annoy her because _she couldn't_ , but stopped almost immediately when Mrs. Dodds sent him the evil eyes. He buried his hands in his pockets, looking thoroughly put off and grumbling lowly to himself.

Pixie felt an odd sort of satisfaction by it all - that would teach him to whistle around her when she couldn't - and smirked.

Jackson elbowed her in the side, fully knowing what she was thinking.

"Oy, I'm not the one glaring at you."

"No, but you're practically in cohorts with her."

Pixie found this all too entertaining.

"That woman just won't ever give up," He continued, "From day one she figured I was the devil's _spawn_. She'd point her crooked finger at me and say, 'Now, honey,' real sweet and I'd be in for detention!"

Pixie vaguely remembered Jackson telling her about one time when Mrs. Dodds made him erase answers out of old maths workbooks until midnight. Apparently when he'd told Underwood that he didn't think she was human, Underwood had looked at him in all seriousness, and said, _"You're absolutely right."_

Pixie didn't see why they disliked Mrs. Dodds so much, or, well, she _did_ , but she didn't agree with them. The strict woman was alright in her eyes, she didn't tell on her when she was doing something she wasn't allowed. Somehow, Mrs. Dodds always knew how to find her, and would, time again and again, simply smirk at her and give a little wink before continuing on her way.

How Mrs. Dodds always seemed to know, she didn't have a clue, but she'd love to know. Maybe she could use it herself, if she ever wanted to track someone down. Seemed a lot easier than asking around whilst making sure no one told the one she was looking for they'd better transfer schools.

Pixie showed the boy a feral grin, eyes alight with predatory amusement.

The class gathered around a five-meter-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and Mr. Brunner started telling them how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about their age. He told them about the carvings on the sides.

It was amazing, in its own way, how Mr. Brunner didn't once notice the students talking to each other, none of them taking any interest in his story. Jackson seemed to be one of the few who _did_ , but every time he told them to shut up, Mrs. Dodds would send him a glare.

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.

The final straw seemed to be when Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, but before he could tell her where to stick it, Pixie stepped on her foot with a dark smirk.

Bobofit yelp loudly.

Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Miss Bobofit," he said, "did you have a comment?"

Bobofit's face soon become the same colour as her hair, and she said, "Erh, n-no, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

She looked at the picture with dread, fumbling over her words once or twice before she finally said, "That's a guy eating some kids..."

Mr. Brunner raised an eyebrow. "Just a 'guy'?"

"Yes?"

Everyone around Bobofit snickered, and Pixie felt her lips curl upwards. Mr. Brunner sighed in disappointment. "Please pay attention next time, Miss Bobofit." He turned his attention back to the whole class, eyes quickly zeroing in on Jackson. "Mr. Jackson? How about you?"

Jackson blinked as he was addressed, then said, "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

Pixie looked over at the specific picture on the stele. Kronos was eating who she believed to be one of his sons, probably Poseidon - a quick glance at the little sign beside it showed that to be true -, the babe's limbs torn apart. It was surprisingly gruesome for a picture carved in stone.

Rhea stood slightly away from her husband, robes draped around her figure. She looked morose, Pixie thought any mother would, but even with the bowed head, she couldn't find it in herself to feel any pity for the Titan - the kids, perhaps, they were after all _eaten_. Rhea had stood, watching as her children were gobbled up, and done _nothing_.

If- If _she'd_ had a mother, would she just have watched on-?

"Eeew!" One of the girls behind her screeched.

Pixie blinked, lids slowly sliding over dark, dark greens.

Ah, she'd been spacing out.

"-and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," Jackson said, "and the gods won."

Snickers rose from the group.

Bobofit was mumbling to a friend behind her, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

Underwood grinned behind a hand, muttering, "Busted."

"Shut up," Bobofit hissed, her face resembling a tomato.

Pixie swore Mr. Brunner had radar ears at the weirdest of times. He somehow heard Bobofit, who was near the back of the group, but hadn't once heard the people talking in the front. _How_?

Jackson looked to be thinking over Mr. Brunner's question, but ended up shrugging. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed, though _why_ that was eluded her. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off. The girls, quickly forgetting whatever made them disgusted, exchanged gossip and rumours, and the guys pushed each other around, joking with each other. All of them acted like morons, in Pixie's honest opinion, which – surprise, surprise – most of them _were_. There was, shockingly enough, one or two (besides her two tag-a-longs) who weren't on her shit-list.

However, Pixie was a born realist, so she was just waiting for them to mess up.

(Or maybe that went under the category Pessimist?)

Pixie went after them, a sandwich in the sling backpack thrown haphazardly over her shoulder just begging to be eaten, a low rumble from her stomach making itself known. Jackson and Underwood were right behind her, when, "Mr. Jackson."

Mr. Brunner wanted to talk, and from the look Jackson sent her he had known it was coming. He told them to keep going, not that she had to be told that, and then he turned towards Mr. Brunner.

"Sir?"

The class had gathered on the front steps of the museum, where the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue was easily viewable.

Underwood and Pixie sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others, waiting for Jackson. Pixie didn't want to be near any of them, and Underwood dogged her steps. She pulled her legs up and under her over-sized hoodie, feeling a chill, and pulled the hood over her head, nearly shadowing her whole face. Now the knee length, patterned leggings, studded boots, thin knee pads, and hoodie didn't seem like enough. She knew she should have put on more clothes before they left, but she had been inside before they left and didn't know how cold it would be.

A huge storm was brewing overhead, clouds blacker than she had ever seen hanging over the city like a huge suffocating blanket. Could've been global warming at work, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. There had been massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if a hurricane suddenly blew everything away.

The only other person Pixie had seen giving the weather cautious looks was Jackson, who was now making his way over to them. Everyone else were acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Some of the male students were pelting pigeons with punchable crackers. Bobofit, she saw from the corner of her eye, was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse.

"Detention?" Underwood immediately asked.

Jackson shook his head. "Not from Mr. Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean-I'm not a _genius_."

Pixie gave him a blank stare. "What gave it away?"

In a fit of matureness, Jackson stuck his tongue out at her. "Ha ha, you're _hilarious_."

She hummed. "Good you finally admit it."

Underwood hadn't said anything for a while now, and when she thought he would start spouting some deep philosophical Shakespeare shit, he said, "Can I have your apple?"

She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

 _Almost_.

Apparently Jackosn didn't have much of an appetite, so he let Underwood have it. Pixie was currently stuffing her own sandwich into her mouth, briefly wondering if she should have taken another one with her. She laid down on the edge of the fountain with a shrug, nearly disappearing from the rest of the class' view as she did so.

Then she heard Bobofit's grating voice, who hadn't seemed to have seen her, "Oops."

Bobofit had dropped her half-eaten lunch in Underwood's lap. She was grinning, toothily, showing of those crooked teeth of hers. Her freckles were orange in this light, and they kind of looked like someone had spray painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

Jackson progressively looked angrier and angrier, until something strange happened.

A wave roared in her ears, and she felt a fresh spray of water land on her face. Pixie shot up in surprise, eyes wide, only to hear a sudden shrill scream of, "Percy pushed me!" Bobofit, much to Pixie's entertainment, was sitting on her ass in the fountain, screaming bloody murder.

She stopped immediately once she had spotted Pixie, jaw snapping shut with a loud click of her teeth.

Then Mrs. Dodds materialized next to them.

Pixie had grown accustomed to the other kids whispering behind her back, so she almost ignored this as well, but one thing caught her attention.

"Did you see-"

"-the water-"

"-like it grabbed her-"

She had been staring at the sky, but with so many people _seeing_ it (unless everyone were on drugs - that was a possibility too), there had to be some sort of truth in their words. However small it may be.

Jackson looked lost.

Poor little Bobofit cried crocodile tears, Mrs. Dodds promising to get her a new shirt in the girl shop, as she sent Jackson vicious grins over Mrs. Dodds' shoulder. Pixie could see from the way Mrs. Dodds' eye twitched that she saw them too.

Mrs. Dodds turned on Jackson, and there was a triumphant fire in her eyes now.

Had she been waiting for Jackson to do something? No, Jackson had gotten on Mrs. Dodds nerves countless of times, and none of them had brought this utter triumphant glint to her eyes. Maybe it had something to do with the others' whispers? That certainly hadn't happened before.

Water that grabbed...

"Now, honey-"

"I know," Jackson grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks."

Pixie almost hit him for that one. Didn't he know _anything_? _Never_ guess your own punishment.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said sharply.

"Wait!" Underwood yelped. "It was me. _I_ pushed her."

Pixie started at him as if he'd grown another head, slightly amazed and _very_ shocked. Underwood was scared shitless by Mrs. Dodds, so why would he suddenly-? Mrs. Dodds had taken Jackson out of class many times, what was so special about this one?

Mrs. Dodds didn't seemed to appreciate the heroic act, and glared at him so hard his whiskery chin began to tremble.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But-"

"You-will-stay-here."

Underwood sent Jackson a pitiful, _desperate_ look.

"It's okay, man," Jackson told him, patting him on the shoulder. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at him. " _Now_."

Pixie frowned. She was never like this - so _hell bent_ on getting him alone. What was going on? Something didn't add up no matter how many times she thought or went through it. The turning point had clearly _happened_ , but what? Mrs. Dodds didn't care that much about Bobofit that she'd go berserk if anything happened to her, and Jackson hadn't done anything other than push her-

The _water_. Mrs. Dodds had seen the water move (if it was real and not just some freak trick of the light), but what was so important about that that it'd cause Mrs. Dodds to look so gleeful?

Bobofit smirked.

Jackson glared heatedly at the redhead, but when Pixie turned her gaze back to Mrs. Dodds, she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at Jackson to hurry up and _follow_.

The frown deepened, the shadow cast by the hood over her face lengthening. How had she done that?

All doubt now removed - something was _wrongwrong **wrong**_ -, Pixie watched as Jackson went after Mrs. Dodds and, with one backwards glance, into the museum.

" _Please_ ," Underwood begged, looking pale, " _please_ go after him, Pixie."

"Why?" A very pale and shaking Underwood grabbed her arm in a vice like grip, and it surprised her enough to make her flinch and look at him. She had never seen him like this, he looked so serious that she couldn't find it in herself to snap at him for touching her.

Underwood begged her again, looking at her as if she had the power to make it all better with a flick of her wrist.

It was weird, having someone look at her like that.

"... Okay."

A weight visibly lifted from his shoulders. " _Thank you_."

* * *

 **.02**

* * *

The Greek and Roman section of the museum was completely empty, and her footsteps echoed if she wasn't careful. She passed by what looked like a dinner plate with Janus on it, when she noticed that she had no idea of where she had to go. Mrs. Dodds and Jackson were nowhere in sight.

Pixie turned in a circle, looking all around, but there was nothing to give away their position. Something was telling her to go back and she cursed lowly to herself, how could she have lost them? She went in after them not even three minutes after they had entered the building.

She spotted a stele that had caught her interest when she and been walking around with her class.

It was of the ferryman, Charon, who stood beside his boat on the shore of the river Styx. He held out a hand for payment as the dead, all in the same cloak, stood in a long, thin line, waiting to board the boat. Few were already sitting in the boat, but it was far from full.

Longer down the river a great palace rose in the distance, towering over everything in the picture. Cerberus was guarding the gate and the three furies hovered in the distance.

A weird feeling entered the pit of her stomach as her eyes settled on the furies, urging her on in finding Jackson.

As the heavy feeling settled Pixie found herself going further into the museum and picked up her pace, feet almost flying over the floor in her haste. Her heart steadily beat a tattoo into her chest, the feeling of _wrongwrongwrong_ now completely washing over her. Something was trying to stop her from coming.

But she wasn't that easily deterred.

After running for sometime Pixie suddenly skidded to a halt, hiding behind a statue of Hermes, as she spotted Mrs. Dodds.

She stood in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods, crossing her arms. She gazed intently at the gods, eyes flickering from one form and to the next, when she made this deep, rough sound in the back of her throat. It sounded like a dog's growl.

Against her wishes, Pixie felt herself tense and, a bit away from her, she saw Jackson doing the same. The sound hadn't just been her imagination.

"You've been giving us problems, honey," Mrs. Dodds said. She was still looking at the frieze.

Jackson didn't hesitate, but he didn't speak his mind either. "Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Dodds tugged sharply on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?" The look in her eyes was positively mad - _evil_ \- and Pixie was starting to doubt if Jackson really was all that safe.

"I'll-I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

The words entered her ears but she couldn't make any sense of them. Jackson hadn't done anything that would warrant this kind of behaviour. But... _we_ , Mrs. Dodds wasn't the only one - she wasn't acting alone.

Jackson didn't answer.

"Well?" Mrs. Dodds demanded.

Pixie tensed uncontrollably. She had to do something, and _fast_.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time-"

She pushed the empty glass case beside her over and it fell to the ground with a crash, broken glass shards flying everywhere.

Both Mrs. Dodds and Jackson jumped, eyes zeroing in on her form.

Then came the ear shattering alarm, blaring all around.

She said, "I tripped..."

Mrs. Dodds looked like someone had slapped her with a rubber chicken, and that was nothing compared to Jackson, who looked like a fish out of water. Pixie walked carefully over to them, steps cautious but near hurried. The bad feeling hadn't gone away, if anything it had only become worse.

"I erh," she swallowed, what the _hell_ could she say? Pixie forced herself to relax, gaining back that usual bored drawl her voice had. "The bus' getting taken away, and Mr. Brunner can't do anything since he went to the toilet. I'd very much like to be able to get back - I was in the middle of a game -, so if you could...?" She jerked a thumb behind her.

Silence stretched.

Weird how no guards had appeared yet. Never mind that, it was downright _uncanny_ how _no one_ had even poked a head in.

Mrs. Dodds sighed, long suffering and incredibly melodramatic for the teacher.

"I had hoped this could have been avoided, honey, but..."

Somehow, Pixie got the feeling she wasn't talking about the bus.

Mrs. Dodds' eyes began to glow like the coals left after a fire. Her fingers elongated into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human, she never _had been_ Pixie belatedly realised. Mrs. Dodds was a giant bat crossed with a hag that had claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs.

Mrs. Dodds screeched, wings fully spreading out, and the image she presented reminded Pixie of the stele she saw earlier.

Then something even stranger happened. Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy! Fleur!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged.

Pixie still owned Jackson - no matter what he said, she had nearly killed him that day -, and it was time to pay him back.

She pushed him out of the way.

Jackson yelled her name as she felt the talons bite into the flesh of her forearm, like a hot knife to butter, and a grunt of pain left her. Ignoring the pain to the best of her abilities, Pixie proceeded to spin on her heels, as she didn't want to let Mrs. Dodds out of her sight.

The look in Mrs. Dodds- no, the fury's eyes as she turned around was angry. Angry at herself, angry at Pixie, angry at Jackson - _angryangryangry_ -, and Pixie desperately tried to look for something she could use as a weapon.

Jackson now had a sword in his hand, she noticed, though she could've sworn it had been a pen only moments ago. She recognised the sword as Mr. Brunner's, the very same bronze sword that he always used on tournament day.

Mr. Brunner would dressed up in a suit of Roman armour on tournament days, and shout: "What ho!'" and challenge them, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, their mother, and what god they worshipped.

Pixie fumbled briefly for the long shard of glass by her feet, quickly pulling down her hoodie's sleeves and over her hands, so she wouldn't accidentally cut herself. She was happy now that her hoodie was black, because it meant you couldn't see the blood that now lazily gushed from her wound. It would stop soon enough, she knew, as all her wounds had a tendency to do, so she wasn't too worried about it.

She moved closer to Jackson, lightly bumping her shoulder with his. She could feel him shake, but that could also be her so she wasn't about to mention it.

The fury snarled, "Die, honey!"

And then she flew straight at them.

Pixie didn't allow herself to panic - _couldn't_ -, so she calmly raised the hand holding the glass shard, placing the palm of her other hand behind it. Jackson had already raised his sword, which was held in front of him.

The fury came upon them and the bronze blade ran clean through her shoulder and down to her hip, as Pixie jammed the ragged shard of glass into the middle of her chest. The fury's body gave no resistance, as if she was made of nothing but shadows.

She crumbled, like a biscuit dumped one to many times in one's tea, and was blown away like a thick layer of dust on an old book. It was morbidly beautiful, the way she had exploded into golden dust – vaporising on the spot. She left nothing but the smell of sulphur and a dying screech behind her.

The alarm wasn't blaring at them anymore, and the place suddenly became eerily silent.

Pixie felt an unwanted shiver run down her spin, as if the fury's two red glowing eyes were still watching them from the shadows, and tried to suppress it. But they were alone, she knew that, and Jackson's sword had turned back into a ballpoint pen. She threw the shard of glass on the ground.

"Did," Jackson licked his lips, "did that just happen?"

Pixie's lips quirked, and her only acknowledgement to his question was showing the three short cuts across her arm. "Who ever said, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman' clearly hadn't met Mrs. Dodds."

Apparently he didn't find that all too funny, because he gave her a very dry look.

Jackson gestured to her arm. "Are you gonna be okay? Should we get someone to look at it?"

She shook her head. "S'fine, I heal pretty quickly. See? It's already stopped bleeding." And so it had, at least, for the most part. The places were it had stuck to the fabric of the hoodie had torn when she pushed the sleeve up, but other than that it was fine. The cuts were swallow, and looked worse than what it really was. She re-covered the wound. "But we better get back outside before someone comes looking."

It had started to rain outside and Underwood, who was still sitting by the fountain, used a museum map as cover. Surprisingly, Bobofit was also there, rain and fountain water making sure she was soaked to the bone. She was grumbling to her annoying goons, and when she saw Jackson, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

Pixie stared at the redhead. They didn't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr.

"Who?" Jackson blurted.

Bobofit sneered, rolling her eyes. "Our _teacher?_ Duh!"

The old zippo was laughably easy to get out and flick open, a beautiful, vibrant orange, flame bursting forth. "Want me to help you dry off, Bobofit?" The Itch had come back with a vengeance and all she wanted was some kind of relief. Bobofit would have to do.

Bobofit shot her a frightened look, quickly blurting out an excuse and hurrying off to her posse as they all nearly ran away. Jackson kept an eye on the group, as he asked Underwood who Bobofit was talking about. The only answer he got was a squeaky, "Our teacher."

Pixie shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, trying to easy off any strain on her right arm. "And Mrs. Dodds?"

Underwood paused, and didn't look either of them in the eyes as he questioned, "Who?"

"Not funny, man," Jackson told him, brow furrowing. "This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead.

Mr. Brunner was sitting under his red umbrella, reading a book, as if he'd never even moved. One look at Jackson told her all she needed. They both went over there.

Mr. Brunner looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson. Miss Fleur, I do hope you didn't come here with any bad news?"

Jackson handed Mr. Brunner his pen. Pixie had forgotten it, which was kind of sad, because that meant she had had the opportunity to spear Bobofit but didn't. She'd first have to figure out how to turn it back into a sword though.

Her lips tugged down. "No," she said as to answer Mr. Brunner, "I haven't done anything." Besides breaking a glass case, of course, but that wasn't in the school's agreement of incidents she'd have to report. Not that she actually told the school of the things she did - that would be plain _stupid_.

"Sir," Jackson said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

Mr. Brunner stared at them blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher." Jackson added helpfully, as Pixie waited for his answer.

Mr. Brunner frowned and leaned forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, Fleur, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you two feeling all right?"

She really should have just burnt down that goddamned bus.

* * *

 **I'm kind of ashamed of how little Grover there is in this chapter when he's, you know, _right fucking there_. Alas, there's not much I can do about it, as Pixie won't really pay him too much attention, because he's Percy's friend, and Grover might be (he very much is) scared of her. It'll end at some point, hopefully.**

 **Anyhoo~ Leave a review, I love to hear from you guys!**


	3. Ch II: Puzzles are made to be solved

**Published: February 19th, 2016  
Last Edited: Date of publish  
** **Word count: 4,985**

 **Excuse the typos, everyone makes mistakes.**

 **Thank you to all who reviewed, alerted, and faved, you won't believe how happy it makes me.**

* * *

 **Chapter II**

 **"Puzzles are made to be solved."**

* * *

"Come on, children! Let's all get on the bus now!"

Pixie already _detested_ Mrs. Kerr, an incredibly annoying and a bit-too-perky-to-be-natural blonde who she had never seen before in her life. Every other student acted as if she had always been there, not finding anything wrong as the teacher quiet literally skipped onto the bus with a big, toothy smile plastered across her face.

Mrs. Kerr placed a hand on her shoulder as she boarded the bus, one of the last to enter the cursed vehicle, and Pixie fought every instinct that told her to rip that hand _away from her_.

She glared at the blonde, shrugged the hand off, and said, " _What_?"

She just wanted to go back and see if she couldn't dig up a first-aid box in her room somewhere - she knew she had one.

Mrs. Kerr smiled kindly, looking at her with understanding. "You can always come to me if you want to talk, I won't judge."

Pixie somehow seriously doubted that.

"The bus ride isn't that long either."

Her hand twitched, the Itch slowly working its way back. She knew Mrs. Kerr was just trying to help, but honestly she was only making it worse by making her aware of it.

"So don't worry. I'm sure we can even take a break along the way back!"

And there came the hand again, caressing the top of her head. Pixie gritted her teeth, and just as she took a swipe at her teacher Jackson pulled her back by her hoodie.

Mrs. Kerr yelped, jumping back. "Wh-what? P- _Pixie_?"

Pixie tried to jerk out of Jackson's hold, and silently cursed over the fact that he was stronger than her. When her efforts bore no fruit, she stopped stiffly and glared heatedly. "Don't _touch me_."

Jackson's grip on her tightened briefly. "Relax. I have something you can burn when we get back." He was, of course, whispering that last part.

"... Fine." she finally said, after much consideration. "Now let go."

Jackson smiled that lopsided smile of his, but let her go so she could board the bus.

* * *

 **.01**

* * *

Pixie carefully peeled off the bandages around her right forearm, wincing as some of the dried blood stuck to the stained cloth. She wetted a towel under the sink in the bathroom, and placed it over the still stuck bandages, feeling goosebumps rise at the near burning temperature.

She pursed her lips, quickly getting lost in her thoughts and forgetting everything about the hot towel. An illusion - she knew it sounded stupid, but it was the only thing she could call it, unless everyone were on drugs - seemed to have befallen every student, every teacher, every hired personal, of their school.

Everyone but Jackson.

(Maybe _they_ were the ones on drugs, but the, now pleasant, warmth that encased her forearm told her otherwise.)

She was... happy she wasn't the only one who was slowly going insane, if that was what was happening, but Pixie had her doubts.

Mrs. Kerr had been there since the school year started, Mrs. Dodds had never existed, and they were really starting to creep people out.

Not for one second did she believe any of those things - except for maybe that last one. Jackson may not have figured out what Mrs. Dodds is (or, well, _was_ ), but he did know something had happened, something that couldn't just be explained like that.

He would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference every now and then, hoping the students would get caught off guard and reveal themselves - they never did. They honestly believed Mrs. Kerr had always been their teacher and there hadn't ever been a Mrs. Dodds.

Now, Pixie wasn't a stranger to odd events, she could specifically tell you about that one time she had seen a rhino sized dog that definitely _did not_ look like your average domestic dog, or when the shadow of a lamppost had _bent out of shape_ towards her. So yeah, it wasn't exactly the _weirdest_ thing that had happened to her.

Then, one day, Jackson asked Underwood about Mrs. Dodds.

It seemed to her that they should have done that from the very beginning, as when Jackson mentioned the name Dodds, Underwood would become very still, hesitant, and then claim she didn't exist - had never _existed_.

Rightfully so, though she found Jackson holding her back, she tried to take a swipe at Underwood for being a _filthy little liar_.

(Underwood had made sure a good three meters were between them at all times for the following week, and for good reason too.)

Pixie peeled the wet towel off her arm, throwing it into the sink, and removed the rest of her bandages.

She knew better, however, she _knew_ it was real and she had the proof cut across her right arm. They were red and angry-looking, the three relatively short cuts, and marred the underside of her forearm, right in the middle.

(She vaguely wondered if it would scar.)

Someone knocked on the bathroom door once, twice, trice.

"Pixel?"

"Jackson..." How had he gotten in? She lived at the very end of the girls' hallway, and because there was an odd number of dorm rooms, it held a small bathroom for itself, so he couldn't have come in via a shared bathroom like the other dorms had.

Jackson stood in the open doorway, leaning against the frame as his brow furrowed with something she couldn't quite decipher. "What're you doing?"

Pixie glanced at the clock through the bathroom door, to the side of Jackson's head. It was past midnight and she could see he had been sleeping before now, because his hair was still ruffed and he was even wearing his pajamas, though he had a wind breaker thrown on.

"How did you get in?" She asked instead, almost instantly feeling the cold breeze crawling around her ankles and arms. "... You climbed in through my _window_." She knew there was a tree right outside said window, because she used it herself when she felt like a late night walk.

His cheeks flared red. "Um, yeah...?"

"You're an idiot."

"And _you_ didn't answer my question." He said matter of factly, quickly forgetting about the blush on his face as he pushed off from the doorframe, blocking the way out - however unknowingly.

She followed his gaze down to the wounds across her arm, briefly flickering her eyes back up to view his reaction.

Concern was the most prominent emotion, anger came next, though for once it wasn't directed at her.

"Is that from-?"

She nodded, beginning to wrap clean bandages around the cuts.

"So it was real?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Well I sure didn't cut myself."

Jackson winced, face twisting into a grimace, though when he opened his mouth to speak - something stupid and sappy no doubt - she interrupted him. "Will you close the thrice damned window? It's freezing in here."

He gave her arm one last look, as she tied a knot to keep it in place, before he went back out to close the window.

She cleaned up after herself and leaned against the door frame, watching as Jackson heaved and pulled at the window. Wind was blowing in at full force and the cold air was starting to really annoy her.

"Fucking- _shit_." Jackson gave one finally heave and successfully closed it, jamming the lock back down. "I know the weather's been absolute _hell_ , but this is bordering ridiculousness."

He had a point. Just last week a thunderstorm had blown out the windows in some of the dorm rooms, which was why she made it a point to keep hers closed, though she usually did that anyway, and the other day a sudden storm kicked up and cracked the old tree _whilst she was in it_. A few days after, i.e. yesterday, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only a little less than a hundred metres from Yancy Academy.

Pixie hummed-

"I won't be coming back next year."

-and blinked. "What?"

"The headmaster- he sent a letter to my mum, because of all the trouble I've been getting into lately, so now I won't be coming back."

"Huh..." That made her oddly... Eh, she couldn't tell - didn't particularly want to either.

"'Huh'? That's all you have to say?"

She sent him a glare. "What? You want me to cry and tell you how much I'll miss you and _'please don't leave!'_ "

He pouted. "That would have been nice yes."

Pixie rolled her eyes. "Forget it."

Jackson sighed. "Can I at least sleep here? The windows still haven't been fixed in my room."

"... You can sleep on the coach but _only_ if you give me first pickings from the candy you smuggle in - for free."

"You get 200kg."

"Six."

"Two and a half."

"Seven."

"You can't just go _up_ , that's not how it works! You get 300 and that's that."

"Eight."

"Will you- fine! _Four_."

A baring of teeth in a mock of a smile. " _Deal_."

* * *

 **.02**

* * *

It was the middle of the night.

Funny how they kept on meeting like this.

She cocked one dark eyebrow. "Out for a last night snack, are we?"

Jackson huffed, looking slightly annoyed as he raised the book in his hand. "Can't figure this out, so I figured I might as well ask Mr. Brunner."

"What fun."

Exam week was getting closer, she knew, and almost everyone were either studying like never before or doing what they've always been doing: slacking off. She, surprisingly enough, belonged to the former group. Pixie knew if she wanted to have _any_ chance of getting away from this place she'd have to have good grades - that was a fact and she refused to fail.

He gave her a very dry look. "Your enthusiasm simply _overwhelms_ me."

Pixie's lips curled upwards. "Don't get too overwhelmed now, I'm not going to drag you back to your room, if so by your feet."

"Thanks, Pixel. Truly _thanks_."

"Anytime." ... Nah, she couldn't be bothered to do that. "Actually, forget that, don't ever disturb me if I'm sleeping, playing a game or curently threatening someone."

A rather satisfying _smack_ floated through the hallway as Jackson slapped his forehead, hand running down his face.

"You know what? I'm not dealing with this right now, nope, no way, not happening." She followed after him as he mumbled to himself, a little smug smirk on her lips and green eyes glinting in the dim light, going in the direction of the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty when they passed them, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the floor.

They were nearly at the door when Pixie heard voices from inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question, she could tell from the pitch of his voice, but it was too muffle for her to hear what was being said.

A voice that was definitely Underwood's said, "... worried about Percy, sir. Even _Pixie_ is sticking closer to him than usual."

Pixie froze and apparently Jackson had the same idea, because he grabbed her wrist, and _not_ her sleeve even though he _knew_ she hated being touched, to stop her. They both stood as still as they could.

Eavesdropping wasn't something she had a problem with, especially not when a student was talking about another student (or two in this wonderful case) to a teacher.

Nope, there was absolutely no morals getting in the way.

She inched closer with Jackson in toe, both trying their best to be quiet.

"... alone this summer," Underwood said. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too-"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. Miss Fleur is a problem in and of herself. She has been at this school for a long time now, if she really was... Nonetheless there _is_ something that unnerves me."

Pixie narrowed her eyes, anger seething in the pit of her stomach and the Itch crawling up her spine and making her fingers twitch.

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline-"

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance whilst he still can. Hopefully the Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince _both_ that nothing happened."

What was _Mist_? A form of drug? A gas?

"Sir, I... I can't fail in my duties again." Underwood's voice was overrun with emotion, the words coming out of his mouth seeming to almost choke him. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall-"

The mythology book dropped out of Jackson's hand and hit the floor with a loud thud.

Pixie gave a start.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

Time seemed to have stopped as she felt her heart hammering in her chest, blood rushing in her ears. Jackson quickly picked up the book and they sped down the hall.

Pixie whispered hurriedly, "Go to your room before Underwood gets back," to which Jackson nodded, and then they ran in each of their direction. She would have preferred it if he had come with her, as the girls' hallway was closer, but then Underwood would know he had been out past curfew because they shared a room.

It was only when she had closed the door to her dorm behind her that she stopped running and took a deep breath, letting her forehead rest against the wood.

What the ever living _hell_ did all that mean?

Where ' _they'_ actually Mrs. Dodds? A Kindly One, they had called her.

Thoughts were churning around in her head and she slid down the door, running a hand through feathered, sooty black hair, of which was cut in a style she shared her name with - or, well, her _nickname_ shared a name with.

(Pixie didn't recall how it started, just that people started calling her that instead and quickly - _happily_ \- forgot her real one.

A malevolent pixie at best, and a monster at worst. That was all she was.)

She sighed.

Could she say that she was too old for this shit? Probably not.

* * *

 **.03**

* * *

Pixie was playing with the pencil in her hand the very next afternoon, eyes squinted at the paper in front of her. The Latin exam was underway, and she was sitting in the front of the class for once - because it meant she could get out easier -, wishing the blanks would just magically fill them themselves with the correct answers.

She was doubling back through the whole sheet for the third time, looking through the ones she skipped, when she heard a chair scrap against the floor.

The next thing she heard was Mr. Brunner calling Jackson back inside. Pixie stilled her scribbling, head still down but ears listening intently to the conversation about to happen. And in front of the whole class, too.

What the hell was Mr. Brunner thinking?

"Percy," she heard him say. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's... it's for the best."

Oh god. It was about that, was it.

Mr. Brunner may have had a special talent with that kind tone of his, but that did not make the words he was saying any less embarrassing. Even worse was the fact the other students finishing the test could hear, she was a prime example of that, and from the corner of her eye she saw Bobofit smirking at Jackson and make sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

Pixie felt half inclined to pound her face into the ground, if not for Jackson's sake then for her own.

"Okay, sir." Jackson mumbled.

"I mean..." Mr. Brunner paused and she heard the squeaking of his wheelchair, as if he was rolling his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

"Right," Jackson said, voice strained.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say-"

Pixie slammed her paper down on the desk, rising from her seat. "I'm done."

Mr. Brunner and Jackson, including the rest of the students still there, gave a collective jump, apparently haven forgotten where they were.

Mr. Brunner furrowed his brow at her, tone stern. "Miss Fleur, that is no way to-"

"I'm aware," she said, gathering her stuff and placing her test paper on his desk, "but maybe you should find another place to speak with your students - it's distracting, not to say rather annoying." She glared at him, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head for better effect, as her lips tugged down.

"Miss Fleur-"

Oh he could 'Miss Fleur' her all he'd like but that was still not going to make her give a rat's ass, she thought darkly.

However it wasn't her that interrupted him.

"Thanks a lot, sir," Jackson said cooly, "Thanks for trying to remind me." With that he walked out of the classroom, and for once Pixie followed after him without hesitation.

He wanted to be normal, that much was obvious, and for the first time Pixie felt like she wasn't so along anymore.

* * *

 **.04**

* * *

They may have been on a Greyhound, and pouncing people inside one probably wasn't the greatest idea, but Underwood wasn't doing himself any favour - nothing that would quench that desire at least, only make it worse.

 _Why_ was she considering beating him up right then and there, well, Pixie was wondering if that would finally start making him spill everything - maybe even admit Mrs. Dodds was real. Preferably before his guts did the same, Percy wouldn't be too pleased with her if that happened. And she _had_ refrained from doing so, as there currently wasn't any blood bath to behold.

(Pity.)

Though that _was_ mostly because Percy choose that same exact moment to say, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

A most wicked grin overtook her face as Underwood did a fantastic job of trying to jump into the next row of seats, a little squeak escaping his lips.

"I-I-I I don't know what you're talking about!" His face twitched and he quickly glanced down the aisle again. He had done so the whole ride, nervously twitching every once in a while, keeping a surpisious eye on the other passengers. He especially got down right _anxious_ whenever someone moved too fast or spoke too loudly.

She knew he was on a lookout for whatever was after Percy, it was kind of obvious, since he'd even gone out of his way by booking a ticket to the same Greyhound as him.

(It was a coincident she'd ended up on the same bus as Percy. A _coincident_.)

Pixie scoffed, lips curling into a sneer she was rather proud of. "Oh I'm pretty sure you know what he means, so why don't you just _spill_."

Underwood paled, but he still squeaked, "W-what do you know?"

Percy didn't seem to mind Underwood's constant evasions too much, but even he must have a breaking point. "Oh, not much." He replied casually, buffing his nails on his chest. "What's the summer solstice deadline?"

Underwood flinched. "Look, Percy... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers..." He sent Pixie a quick glance.

"Grover-"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and-"

"You're a terrible liar, Underwood." She said.

Underwood's ears somehow turned pink, whilst the rest of his face drain of colour. He quickly pulled out a grubby business card from his shirt pocket. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in a fancy script, from what she could see over Percy's shoulder, and it was doing nothing for her dyslexic eyes. In the end, Pixie got it to something like:

 _Grover Underwood_  
 _Keeper_  
 _Half-Blood Hill_  
 _Long Island, New York_  
 _(800) 009-0009_

"What's Half-"

"Don't say it out loud!" Underwood yelped, cutting Percy off. "That's my, um... summer address."

Pixie let her eyes fall upon the nervous rack that was Grover Underwood and glared. She didn't think he was necessarily lying - didn't mean he was exactly telling the truth either.

"Okay," Percy said glumly - he must've figured Underwood was another one of those rich kids. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion."

Underwood nodded quickly. "Or... or if you need me."

"Why would I need you?" Percy said harshly.

Pixie tilted her head, blinking. That was... Surprisingly harsh coming from Percy.

Underwood blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, Percy," her own name was added almost reluctantly, "the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect you two."

Percy stared at him, like he couldn't believe him, which wasn't that far off. Pixie barely believed him herself.

All year long Percy had got into fights (Pixie, well, Underwood was _Percy's_ friend, she didn't care too much for him), doing his best to keep bullies away from him, and now Underwood was the one protecting him? ( _Them_?)

Pixie looked down at the card in Percy's hand, one word in particular standing out to her. "Is that what 'Keeper' means?" she raised her eyes to survey Underwood's reaction. "That you're assigned to keep someone safe?"

He blanched, turning the color of snow, and as he stammered and stuttered a denial the bus suddenly jerked forth, sending both Percy and Pixie into the seat in front of them.

There was a huge grinding noise under her feet, she could feel the small tremors in the floor, as black smoke poured out from the dashboard. It smelled like rotten eggs not unlike the computer back in science class.

(It seemed so long ago now.)

The driver cursed and steered the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that they'd all have to get off. Percy, Pixie and Underwood filed outside with everybody else.

They were on a stretch of country road, the kind of place no one would notice, but Pixie rather liked it. It was very solitary, with nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars on the side they were on. But across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand, and as she looked at it she felt a seemingly unbarerible hunger fall over her.

The stuff on sale looked delicious: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts, pomegranates and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. Though weirdly enough, there were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks she had ever seen.

Perhaps she should go over and buy some? She did have a rather generous amount of money from the things she'd sold this year.

The lady on the right knitted one of the enormous socks. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn. All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

Pixie looked closer, something she'd almost label as eerie enveloping her, and saw that they were staring straight at Percy. She locked eyes with one of them.

"Tell me they're not looking at you." Underwood said meekly, "They are, aren't they?"

She looked over at Underwood and saw that the blood had drained from his face, something that seemed to be happening a rather lot lately. His nose was twitching. She looked back at the fruit stand and her stomach gave a mighty growl.

Percy snorted, smiling amusedly. "Hungry?"

"A bit." She rubbed at her empty stomach, frowning. It was odd, why would she be hungry now? She'd just eaten before going on the greyhound. Shaking her head, she jerked a thumb towards the fruits. "Up for some?"

"Sounds good."

Underwood tried to stop them, waving his arms in the air as he blocked the way. "No! Don't!" Something like extreme panic had entered his voice, pupils full blown in fright.

Pixie rolled her eyes, sighing. Her stomach was currently the only thing she could think off. "And why ever not?"

Underwood moved his weight from foot to foot, fidgeting with his hands and glancing around. But he didn't answer. He _couldn't_ , she noticed, watching as his jaw clenched and unclenched. She moved past the nervous boy with a scoff, _just_ refraining from bumming her shoulder into his. Percy followed and patted Underwood on the shoulder as he went by.

Underwood went after them hesitantly, skimming an invisible circle around the pair.

"How much?" Percy asked, pointing to the goods.

The old woman on the right was the one who answered, voice wobbly and odd - like someone was playing the saw -, "Depends... what do you desire?" she peered at Pixie the same way she, herself, was looking at the fruits.

Pixie quickly picked out a few of the assorted fruit, Underwood squeaking behind her as he tried to make himself smaller, and took a jug of cider. She held them out to the old ladies, barely remembering to do so as her stomach was currently trying to eat itself.

The middle one peered at the fruits and cider in her hands, rambling off the price of which she paid. She stuffed the cider down in her bag, content to holding the cherries and pomegranates.

Percy had paid for a few apples and cider of his own and was in the process of putting it in his bag. Underwood quickly ushered them away, as Pixie plobbed a cherry into her mouth. She chewed slowly, spitting the stone out as she did so.

Odd, she wasn't all that hunger anymore.

When she looked back over her shoulder, the lady in the middle had taken a huge pair of scissors out. They were gold and silver, long-bladed, and almost like shears. She heard the unmistakeable hitch of Underwood's breath.

"We're getting on the bus," he told them, quickening his step. "Come on."

"What?" Percy said, eyeing the bus shrewdly. "It's a thousand degrees in there."

"Come on!'" But neither of the two were following anymore.

The three old women were still watching them. The middle one pulled forth a thread and cut the yarn with a loud _snip_. The other two women then balled up the electric-blue socks.

Percy and Pixie finally went back to the bus, where Underwood was. When he saw them, briefly looking back to the three old ladies, he - in a very uncharacteristic moment, with tear prickling at his eyes - kicked the bus and cursed.

" _Styx_!"

The bus gave a terrible shudder, like thunder, and the engine roared back to life. The passengers cheered.

"Great job, kiddo!" yelled the driver, coming over to slap Underwood on the back. "Everybody back on board!"

Once the bus got going again, Pixie looked over at the two boys because of the clattering she heard. Underwood was shivering and she found that it was his teeth that were causing the noise. Percy strangely looked like he'd caught the flu.

"Grover?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"What just happened?"

Underwood dabbed his forehead with his shirtsleeve. "What did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"Three old ladies." Percy said.

Pixie stared at Underwood. "Are they like Mrs. Dodds?"

His expression was hard to read and he didn't answer, instead, he said, "Just tell me what you saw."

"The middle one took out her scissors, and cut the yarn." She said, more curious than miffed about being ordered.

He closed his eyes and made an odd gesture - a claw like motion over his heart, which he then pushed away from himself -, and she felt oddly uncomfortable as he did so. It was kind of like he was trying to chase evil spirits away.

"You saw her snip the cord." He said.

"Yeah. So?" Percy looked confused, but there was something in his eyes that told her he knew it wasn't a good thing either.

"This is not happening," Underwood mumbled. He started chewing on the nail of his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time."

Pixie cocked an eyebrow questioningly at him. "What last time?" she asked.

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth." He kept mumbling.

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water down her back, because- Last time he protected someone, they didn't survive.

"Grover," Percy said. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me, at least, walk you home from the bus station. Promise me." Underwood looked like he was about to cry, so Percy promised he could. Underwood, to Pixie's utter surprise, turned his teary eyes onto her next. "Please?"

She stared at him, uncomprehending what was going on. What was this? Underwood was Percy's friend, not hers, so why would he bother with her? She'd been nothing but unkind to him.

She ended up agreeing, if only because she had no idea what was going on.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" Percy asked.

No answer.

"Grover, that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

Underwood looked at Percy mournfully, like he was already planning his coffin and which flowers to go with it, and sent Pixie a helpless look.

* * *

 **Cough, cough, I'll just crawl into a corner now and pretend I didn't update after I don't know how long...**

 ** _Sigh._**

 **(Pixie, why do you have to be so dark? Yeesh.)**

 **And I'm probably asking a lot from you guys, but for those of you who've read 'The Underworld Princess' it would help me** ** _tremendously_** **if you could tell me what you liked the** ** _most_** **and what you liked the** ** _least_** **, so I don't accidentally take out something you all loved and kept something you hated.**  
 **You can do that with this as well, if you feel like it, either way you have my thanks for reading my fic ;)**

 **Lastly, I've posted a poll (which has absolutely nothing to do with this fic), so if you could go and answer that real quick and sate my curiosity that'd be greatly appreciated :)**

 **Have a good day/night/whatever!**


	4. Ch III: Hairy behinds

**Published: May 24th, 2017  
** **Last Edited: Date of publish  
Word count: 4,914  
**

 **Ah-ha! You get two chapters in one!** ** _BecauseIAmTrashWhoDoesn'tUpdate_** **. And because it would've been too short otherwise.** ** _Anyhow_** **.**

 **Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I really appreciate it, especially because I've been so bad at updating and you guys are still so nice as to leave a comment. You're the best! Some of you had some questions, so I figured I'd just answer them here should it happen that others have the same questions.**

 ** _Will Percy get to know Pixie's really name?_**  
 **Yes. Yes, he will. It'll probably happen around the middle of this story.**

 ** _Annabeth?_**  
 **Okay, so this is a bit more than just one question, and I really don't want to ruin too much by telling you guys everything, but so many people seem to think I made Annabeth evil (from The Underworld Princess) and are saddened by that, so umm, I didn't? Pixie and Annabeth won't get along, so it might seem that I'm bashing on her but that's because this is primarily from** ** _Pixie's view_** **, so of course she'll think badly of her no matter what she does. They'll get along somehow in the end though.**

 ** _PercyxPixie?_**  
 **It probably won't happen until the later books? I think they're a bit too young now to be concerned with things like that, and Pixie is still trying to figure out how okay she is with Percy for that to be a thing without it seeming forced.**

 ** _Daimon?_**  
 **Gone. Out. Never coming back.**

* * *

 **Chapter III**

 **"Hairy behinds."**

* * *

Pixie Fleur.

She was this petite girl with short, curly hair, the darkest pair of green eyes he'd ever seen, and feral features. Her face was too sharp to be considered cute or beautiful, what with her narrowed eyes and high cheekbones. Percy always thought there was something distinctly feline about her face.

Percy didn't know what possessed him to drag her with him on the taxi, telling the driver to go to "East One-hundred-fourth and First", because they weren't, well, _friends_. Not in the same way he and Grover were. Their relationship was odd, tentative, and more of a common understanding that it would be easier if they stuck together.

(That's not to say he _didn't_ want to be friends with her, _proper_ friends, because he _did_ , he just didn't know how to get past that icy exterior of hers.)

And then she started calling him 'Percy', so he must've been doing _something_ right.

He felt a bit bad about leaving Grover at the bus terminal, but his constant muttering of "Why does this always happen?", "why does it always have to be sixth grade?", was starting to royally freak him out. Grover kept looking at him as if he would fall over any moment, so can you really blame him?

(He still felt terrible about leaving him though.)

They had taken advantage of Grover's low bladder tolerance that usually acted up whenever he got upset. He had made a beeline for the restroom as soon as the bus opened its doors, and instead of waiting for Grover, like they had promised, Percy and Pixie got their suitcases, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown.

The ride was quiet, comfortably so, as neither had anything to say and both had too much to think about.

(At least that was the case for her.)

When they finally got out of the cab, Pixie was feeling a little unhinged. Percy was leaving Yancy, and what did one say in a case like that? 'Goodbye' seemed too final, and 'See you later' would probably be a bad lie.

(She should never have stepped out of the cab, she should just have nodded her head at him or something and told the driver to _go_.)

Percy shuffled his feet, shoulders rolling as he looked anywhere but at her.

"So um-"

"I should-"

They both stopped in their tracks, blinking at each other. Percy grinned, laughing, as Pixie huffed, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across her lips with her hand.

"Thanks for following me home," Percy teased with a grin. "You certainly know how to charm a boy."

Feeling the tension leave her shoulders, Pixie started to walk away as she threw an equally teasing smirk over her shoulder. "I try."

(This was good. This was okay. Because no promises were made, and it wasn't final.)

As she was walking away she heard an unmistakable, "Mum!"

"Oh, Percy! Look at how big you've grown!"

There was an exchange of pleasantries when Percy's mum said, "Who was that girl you were talking to just now?"

"Pixie. We're in the same grade."

"Oh! She's the girl you've been talking about so much, right?" Mrs. Jackson sounded delighted for some reason. Pixie felt heat crawl up her neck, as she ducked her head and started walking faster.

" _Mum_!"

Mrs. Jackson chuckled, and the last thing she heard as she walked out of hearing distance was Mrs. Jackson's excited voice: "I have a surprise! We're going to the beach."

* * *

 **.01**

* * *

When Pixie came upon the old little antique shop she so loved, she immediately stepped inside.

The bell above her chimed like always, a broken _ching-a_ resounding through the shop from the crack in its shell. An old LP played in the background, an unknown male artist singing in a deep baritone.

Pixie inhaled deeply, dust and everything old filling her, and let it go with a smile.

"And good day to you, little imp."

She walked into the back of the room, settling herself in the stool by the counter. "Good day, Mrs. Oswell."

The old lady across the counter smiled, a wrinkled thing that made her pale eyes nearly disappear into thin crescent moons and her lips stretch wide. She ran the back of her hand across Pixie's cheek, pushing sooty black strands away, as she said, "Shouldn't you be on your way home?"

Pixie shrugged, straightening up from where she'd been leaning into the caress.

They were nice, she guessed, her newest foster family that is.

(But it was just so much easier to hate and wait until they sent her off to a new foster home than let them close and for her to feel the betrayal of being abandoned. To be honest, she was just being bitter.)

"None of the others are probably back yet," she grumbled, hunching in on herself. "'Sides, if I go back now, they'll just set me to do-"

 _SMACK!_

" _Ow_!"

"Show some respect, _you_ _arrogant_ _imp_." Mrs. Oswell stood leaning over the counter, fists on her hips and strands of steely hair whipping about. It was in that instant she looked more akin to Mrs. Dodds than she ever would. "They've taken you in, given you food and anything of necessity, that's more than can be said for others."

Pixie grumbled lowly, rubbing the back of her head where it smarted.

"I'll go, I'll go."

"Good." The older woman sniffed disdainfully, arms crossed as she made shooing motions with one hand. "Go on then, don't dilly-dally here."

She huffed, rolling her eyes, and jumped off the stool. "Yeah, I missed you too."

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, young lady!"

Pixie hastened her steps a little, snickering into her hand as she waved goodbye.

" _Imp_."

She may have said something about going straight back to her residence, but Pixie ended up putting it off anyway for a quick treat.

Wasn't her fault the stupid bus was delayed, though.

As it was, she didn't make it back until a little before dinner. However, something very... _furry_... was currently sparing her way up into the apartment.

She said, with the flattest tone she could possibly muster, "Underwood, I think you misunderstood a rather crucial detail... It's _shirt_ less, not _pant_ -less, that makes girls go bonkers." Underwood blushed beet red, stammering. "Didn't your mama-goat ever teach you it wasn't polite to strip in front of girls? And should you really be prancing around like this?"

He made a funny noise, like something a sheep would say – or, in this case, a _goat_. Pixie had always figured it was a nervous laugh, now she knew better. "Bla-ah-ah! The mist will help cover that, but _come on_ , we have to hurry!" he exclaimed.

She raised an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a no, then."

He looked like he wanted to drag her with him, but was too afraid of touching her to do so.

"So where is it we absolutely _have_ to go?"

Underwood made a keening noise, a sound of distress. "To find Percy!"

"Why?"

"Because he's in _trouble_!"

A beat.

"Can I at least go up with a few things first?"

* * *

 **.02**

* * *

Finding Percy proved to be a bit of a challenge, but she thought Underwood was exaggerating regardless when he gasped out breathlessly at the sight of him. "Searching all night," _pant_. "What were you _thinking_?"

(She had told him she'd heard they'd be at the beach, _he_ was the one who still went to check their apartment. And hadn't _that_ been a lovely surprise.

Pixie didn't think she could ever look at a bowl of chips and dip the same way again.)

Mrs. Jackson was the one who had opened the door, still dressed in her nightgown and a wild look in her eyes, when Percy had come tumbling bewildered after her.

Currently, he was staring at Underwood's hairy behind, and she would have normally found such an expression funny, had it not been for the rain soaking her thoroughly to the bone. Her hair had plastered itself to her face and she sniffled as a drop of water fell from her nose. She shivered, positive that the duffle bag she had brought with her was as soaked as she was by now.

Mrs. Jackson looked at her son in terror. "Percy," she shouted to be heard over the rain, "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

Percy was frozen, gaze shifting back and forth between Underwood and Pixie, and his mother.

" _O Zeu kai alloi theoi_!" Underwood yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

Pixie snappishly commented, "Really? The Pronoun Game? We're doing this?"

"What?" Percy asked. "What's ' _it_ '?"

Mrs. Jackson looked down at her son sternly and used a tone Pixie only knew from Mrs. Oswell, "Percy. Tell me now!"

Percy managed to stammer something about the old ladies at the fruit stand and Mrs. Dodds, a very bewildered look in his eyes. Mrs. Jackson stared at him, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning. Then, she grabbed her purse, tossed Percy his rain jacket, and said, "Get to the car. All of you. Go!"

Pixie had just decided Underwood would make it in record time when she caught Percy staring dumbfounded at his furry legs.

Then.

"He's got _hooves_."

"Yes, Percy, Underwood has _hooves_."

* * *

 **.03**

* * *

"So... You and my mom... know each other?"

From where Pixie was sitting, squished between the side door of the car and Percy's shoulder, she saw the boy staring rather intensely at the satyr as a flash of lighting lit up the sky. Underwood leaned closer to the front seats, eyes peeking up to the rearview mirror and back before he so much as chanced a quick glance at Percy then her.

"Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you."

"Well, that's not very endearing." Pixie said flatly.

"Watching me?" Percy said as he elbowed her.

"And Pixie, too, later on. I was keeping tabs on you both. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," Underwood added hastily, looking straight at Percy. "I am your friend."

"Urm... what are you, exactly?"

"Satyr. Half goat, half man-" Pixie let her eyes look him up and down, taking in the way he'd nervously twitch every now and then. "-boy. What else does he look like?"

"What? I thought he was half donkey-"

"Blaa-ha-ha." Underwood bleated, and then cried, "Goat!"

"Huh?"

"I'm a goat from the waist down!" The satyr sounded offended. "There are satyrs who would trample you under their hoof for such an insult!"

Pixie looked at Percy pointedly. "See?"

"So... Mr. Brunner's myths are _real_?" He asked, looking back and forth between the people in the car.

"They're not _myths_ , Percy," Underwood said. "Mrs. Dodds wasn't a myth, and that goes for the three ladies at the fruit stand, too."

Percy rounded on the poor fool like a cat on an especially juicy mouse. "So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!" He crowed in triumph.

"Not the point right now." Pixie commented.

Underwood raised his brow in confusion. "Of course."

"Then why-"

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," he said - like it made perfect sense. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you two would think the Kindly One was a hallucination." Muttering under his breath, he sounded rather sour, "That kind of went straight out the window."

"Mist?" Pixie frowned. There was that word again.

"It's a magical force that twists mortals' sight from seeing the 'mythical'." Underwood sighed. "But it was no use, the two of you were starting to realise who you were."

"Who I- wait a minute, what do you mean?" Percy asked, confused.

Pixie said, "I'm pretty sure us _not_ _knowing_ _anything_ is _just_ as likely to get us killed, Underwood."

A particularly nasty bolt of lightning thundered across the night sky, illuminating the rain beating against the car and asphalt. The weird bellowing noise that had been following them rose up again, closer than before, and stomping down what little self-control she possessed, she turned around. The little bit of lightning still flashing among the dark clouds gave her enough light to make out what was following them, beady black eyes looking back at her.

She quickly sat down in her seat again, wishing desperately that they'd arrive soon.

What had they done to get that sent after them? Scratch that, what had _Percy_ done? Because Underwood was clearly concerned about him.

(She refused to believe it was because Underwood didn't care about her even a little bit. She wasn't that terrible, was she?)

"Percy," Mrs. Jackson said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you two to safety."

"Safety from what? Who's after us?"

"Oh, nobody much," Underwood said like it was no big deal, and Pixie not for the first time thought he was a being a bit too nonchalant about dumping this whole mythical thing on them. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his bloodthirsty minions."

Pixie felt herself shiver despite the knuckle-tight grip she had on her arms, and she wasn't too sure it was from the cold either.

"Could you drive faster, Mrs. Jackson, please?"

Mrs. Jackson made a hard left. They swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" Percy asked.

"The summer camp I told you about." Mrs. Jackson's voice was tight, and Pixie could hear an underline of fear. "The place your father wanted to send you."

"The place you didn't want me to go."

"Please, dear," Mrs. Jackson begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger."

"Because some old ladies cut yarn."

Underwood said, "The fact that they appeared in front of you two," he shivered. "They only do that when you're about to... when someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you'." Percy said, slightly frantic.

"No I didn't. I said 'someone'." Came Underwood's ever-smart comeback.

Pixie clenched her jaw, feeling a headache coming.

"You meant 'you'. As in us." Percy continued.

"I meant you, like 'someone'. Not you, you."

"Will you two stop it!" She shouted as Mrs. Jackson said pulled the wheel hard to the right. She looked back again, wanting to know how close the monster was. The same monster Mrs. Jackson had just swerved to avoid - a dark fluttering shape now lost behind them in the storm.

(She _hated_ how much it scared her.)

Percy swallowed. "Was that…?"

"We're almost there," Mrs. Jackson said, ignoring his question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please."

She really hoped that this 'summer camp' turned out to be safe.

Outside, rain and darkness filled the empty countryside of Long Island, but it didn't bring any sort of comfort like she thought, _wished_ , it would. It made her fidgety and nervous, something she hated.

There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom, and their car exploded.

Searing pain soared throughout her veins, and suddenly, she was both weightless and being crushed on all sides, jolts of searing heat running through her body. Then it disappeared and the car stilled.

"Percy!" Mrs. Jackson shouted.

"I'm okay..." he said. "Pixel, Grover, you all okay?"

Pixie straightened up, popping her back in the process, and shook her head from side to side, trying to shake the daze off and clear her head.

She wasn't dead, which was a good thing, but she could almost _feel_ the bruises forming as the burns she no doubt got screamed.

"I'm alive if that's what you're asking about." Pixie tried to smile reassuringly, not only for Percy but also for herself, however, she guessed from the worried gaze sent her way that it turned out more like a grimace. She looked away, pretending to be busy with trying to get out. Fuck her back hurt.

Luckily, the car hadn't exploded. They had swerved into a ditch. The driver's side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had ripped open like wet paper and rain was pouring in.

Lightning was the only explanation. But lightning shouldn't be able to do that to a car, the metal should have acted like as a Faraday cage and make the electricity run across the car and into the ground. They should have been unharmed.

They had been blasted right off the road.

"Grover!" Percy yelled as he leaned over to shake the lump that was Underwood, but he didn't wake up.

Pixie crawled over to the satyr and examined him. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth and he looked to have a nasty lump on his head, which was going to give him one hell of a headache when he woke up.

(And it was very much a _when_ because he _would_ wake up.)

Then he groaned "Food," and she knew he was okay. He still needed to wake up though...

Pixie slapped him - and god she'd wanted to do that for so long. "Wake," slap! "Up," slap! "You big," slap! "Lump of," slap! "Enchiladas!" Slap! She was panting slightly as she waited for Underwood to wake up, but he didn't. She shook him. "Underwood! _Grover_!"

"Children," Mrs. Jackson said, "you have to..." Her voice faltered.

Pixie followed her gaze, looking back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, she saw the monster lumbering toward them on the shoulder of the road. She held a shiver back, but that did nothing to stop the eerie feeling of ants crawling across her skin.

The monster's top half was bulky and fuzzy, and his hands were huge and meaty, swinging at his sides. He was taller than any human could ever be, his arms and legs like something from a wrestler on steroids, with his bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps. He wore no clothes except underwear, bright white Fruit of the Looms underwear, which would've normally looked funny but Pixie couldn't even let out a little chuckle without it turning into a squeak. He was terrifying.

Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders. His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as Pixie's arm, if not longer, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black beady eyes, and then there were the horns. Razor sharp horns that could surely pierce even metal.

In all honesty, Pixie could tell who he was in her sleep. He was probably one of the most infamous monsters of all.

Percy swallowed hard. "Who is-"

"Get out of the car." Mrs. Jackson said, deadly serious. "All of you." She threw herself against the driver's side door. It was jammed shut in the mud.

Percy tried his, but it was stuck too. Pixie looked up at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking. She went for her side and felt the door loosen as she gave it a couple of kicks.

"It's opening!"

"You two," Mrs. Jackson said, "you have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

"What?" Percy frowned in confusion.

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof Pixie saw the tree Mrs. Jackson meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley." Mrs. Jackson continued. "Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

Pixie had a sinking filling in her stomach.

"Mom, you're coming too," Percy said.

Mrs. Jackson's face was pale, her eyes sadder than anything Pixie had ever seen before.

"No!" Percy shouted. "You are coming with me."

Pixie looked back again, the Minotaur was closer now and kept coming toward them, making grunting and snorting noises. They had to hurry.

"Mrs. Jackson," Pixie said urgently. "Percy won't move his ass if you don't move yours, so if you'd please...?"

"I can't cross the property line," she told them.

"We'll figure it out then," Pixie said, voice holding a tone of finality. "But right now we need to move!"

She gave the door on final kick and it swung open into the rain. She quickly climbed out, Percy following and then Mrs. Jackson, taking the still unconscious Underwood with her. Together they all started to stumble uphill through cold, wet, waist-high grass.

Lightning flashed again, and her ears rung. The pine tree was still far away – a hundred yards uphill at least, and the Minotaur was hunched over the car, snuffling and nuzzling the windows.

"His sight sucks, doesn't it?" Percy said, and she saw that he was looking fixedly at the same thing as her.

Mrs. Jackson nodded. "His hearing, too. He goes by smell, but he'll still be able to find us if we don't hurry."

As if on cue, the Minotaur bellowed in rage. He picked up the Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Percy grin wickedly and Pixie raised an eyebrow. "What's with you? I thought I was the pyro here."

"'Not a scratch', Gabe said,"

Pixie chuckled darkly and in union, they said, "Oh well."

"Children," Mrs. Jackson said firmly. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way – directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

Pixie nodded along with Percy, and as another bellow of rage flew through the air the Minotaur started tromping uphill.

He'd smelled them.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and everyone was stumbling around as they tried to run up.

The Minotaur closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of them.

Mrs. Jackson looked exhausted, but she said nonetheless, "Go, Percy! Pixie! Separate! Remember what I said."

Percy obviously didn't want to split up, but Pixie had a sinking feeling that Mrs. Jackson was right – it was probably their only chance. Percy sprinted to the left, and Pixie wanted to follow him, but that would defeat the purpose of splitting up, so she took Underwood off Mrs. Jackson's hands and ran to the right.

They were all alone.

Percy turned and stood in front of the Minotaur, who glowered down at him. The Minotaur's beady black eyes glowed with hate, and even from where Pixie stood she could smell the rotten scent that clung to him.

He lowered his head and charged, razor-sharp horns aimed straight at Percy's chest.

Pixie felt her throat clamp together, as she felt an uncomfortable emotion twist and swirl in her stomach. It weighed her down, but she still wanted to run over to Percy.

She quickly told herself to calm down - rushing in wouldn't help him. Pixie could see the fear in his eyes, but he stood strong and held his stance until the last moment when he jumped to the side, and as he did she released a sigh of relief.

The Minotaur stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward Percy this time, toward his mother, who was standing a bit away from Pixie.

They had all reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side, Pixie could see a valley, just as Mrs. Jackson had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. They would only be able to make it if they somehow learned to fly or teleport.

That would actually be pretty cool.

The Minotaur grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing Mrs. Jackson, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from the others.

"Run, Percy!" Mrs. Jackson told him. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

But Percy didn't move, he was frozen in fear as the Minotaur charged his mother. Pixie would've called out to him but the words were lost in her throat. She saw Mrs. Jackson try to sidestep like she'd told them to do, but the Minotaur's hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck when she tried to get away.

He'd learned his lesson.

The Minotaur lifted Mrs. Jackson and she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

"Mom!" Percy shouted.

Mrs. Jackson caught Percy's eyes and managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the Minotaur closed his fists around Mrs. Jackson's neck, and she dissolved before their eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she was a holographic projection. A blinding flash and she was simply… gone.

Percy had lost his mother.

Pixie finally found the will to move, as she heard Percy's heartbroken shout, "NO!" She dumped Underwood on the ground, making sure he didn't hit his head again and sprinted over to her devastated friend.

What was she doing? She had no weapon, there was nothing she could do, but Pixie still couldn't stop her feet from moving.

The Minotaur now charged at Percy, who was practically glowing with anger, and she could feel herself letting go of all common sense as she changed her route to meet the bull-man.

"Pixel! Are you insane!?"

Perhaps she was, Pixie thought absentmindedly, because normally people didn't run towards danger, but here she was doing exactly that. She was still terrified, her arms shook and her breath came out in short pants, but she didn't want Percy to die.

(She wouldn't ever forgive herself if she let that happen.)

The Minotaur's meaty hands shoot out to capture her, but Pixie jumped - and was it just her imagination or did something push her by the feet? She took hold of the big brass ring in a steel grip, swinging er feet past his head so the momentum would carry her past the Minotaur's head. She tightened her grip and as she flew through the air she pulled the ring along with her. A wet rip and a roar soon followed as she stumbled onto the ground behind the monster, jolting her whole back, which screamed in protest and she bit down on the inside of her cheek.

Firmly held in her hand was the brass ring, pieces of flesh and blood still hanging on, and her face twisted in nausea as she nearly dropped it. She swallowed thickly, feeling the bile in the back of her throat.

The Minotaur swung his arm in a wide arc, and she had to move back if she didn't want to get hit. He stomped his foot on the ground, eyes glaring at her.

He charged.

Pixie turned on her heel but as luck would have it slipped in the mud and twisted her ankle.

It wasn't much a surprise to her when the Minotaur hit her dead on.

She flew through the air and slammed into a tree. Pain shot through her back and into her limbs and she grounded her teeth together, trying to silence the scream that wanted to climb out her throat and into the open. A muffled cry left her lips, tears springing into her eyes.

" _Pixel_!" Percy yelled.

The girl fell down on the ground with a dull dunk, landing on her front. Pain ran through her again at the violent jolt, and it felt like someone was stabbing knives into her back over and over, again and again.

Shit, why had she been so _stupid_? Of course, she couldn't go against the fucking _Minotaur_ , what was she smoking?

Pixie opened her eyes. Everything was blurred and nausea ran through her. She swallowed, but the horrible taste in her mouth only grew, her tongue feeling like lead. Black spots danced joyously - though there was nothing joyous about the situation - before her vision, censoring her sight.

She tried to answer the worried calling, but whenever she opened her mouth Pixie felt bile rise up and she quickly sealed her lips together. She took deep breaths through her nose, breathing through the pain, nausea, confusion.

Blurry shapes that disappeared and reappeared in entirely different places dotted her vision, and she shut her eyes tightly to prevent the nausea from doubling.

A final roar and then the only thing she heard was the rain beating down around her. She peeked cautiously from between her lashes, the big lump she had assumed to be the Minotaur was gone.

Pixie smiled, despite it all, she couldn't help but fell a little proud of Percy for beating the half-bull half-man. The smile quickly faded though, turning into a grimace when she felt her head splitting in two.

The rain stopped soon after, but the storm still rumbled threateningly in the distance. Lighting and blood roared in her ears, as darkness - _comfortable_ , _calm, safe_ \- engulfed her vision before she was safely pulled into dreamland.


End file.
